Onwards
by linking
Summary: MadEye Moody felt himself falling, and before he closed both his eyes, the last thing he saw was a hideous white face with less nose than he had and even weirder eyes. And they call me MadEye when there’s someone out there with red slits for eyes...
1. Go On

Mad-Eye Moody felt himself falling, and before he closed (both) his eyes, the last thing he saw was a white, horrible face with less nose than he had and even more abnormal eyes. His last thought: "And they call _me_ Mad-Eye when there's someone out there with red slits for eyes…"

Alastor Moody felt himself regain consciousness. He didn't dare move a muscle, in case he was still surrounded by Death Eaters. But nothing made a sound. He tried to look through the back of his head and found that he couldn't: he had lost his magical eye.

With no other choice, Moody opened his normal eye, and saw that he was lying in a sunlit room with wooden floors. He let his other eye fall open, even if he knew its hollow socket will be filled with air and give him a swelling feel. However, nothing like that happened. Moody noted with a small start that he had both his eyes back.

He sat up hesitantly and felt his face. All his other scars were gone, and his nose was whole. He then noticed that he was starch-naked. Muttering under his breath and standing up, he was then startled again to see both his legs, fleshy and whole, supporting his weight. What the bloody hell has happened to him?

Moody studied hi surroundings with apprehensive written all over his face. With a jolt of his heart, he recognized where he was… his childhood home, where had been raised. The home where little Alastor got his letter to Hogwarts a hundred years ago (almost literally). The home where Daddy Moody died of smallpox. The home where Moody's Mum had raised Alastor alone, teaching him courage and _constant vigilance_. Moody walked around the familiar place with disbelief. In the old closet he and his mother used to share, he found black robes that would fit his adult body. He pulled them on and walked over to his Mum's old mirror; staring back at him was a Moody that was unscarred, two-legged, normal-eyed, and appeared as if he was barely over-age.

Wishing he still had his magical eye to check for anything unusual, Moody turned around and scanned the one-bedroom hut again. There was no mistake: it was his one and only true home. Turning back to the mirror, he saw with awe that his magical blue eye whizzed again in its socket. _What the—_

Moody jumped. Someone was moving outside the hut. He moved noiselessly to the door, reaching for his wand—

There was no wand.

Moody gaped around. So far all he had wanted had turned up. Would his wand turn up if he hoped enough? Opening his eyes again, every muscle of him tingling with hope, he reached again into his robe pocket, and there it was.

He edged, as cautiously as ever, to the only other room of the hut: the kitchen and living room mixture. Someone was at the door, he was sure of it. Moody urged his magical eye to look beyond the door… and what he saw nearly made him drop his wand. _It could not be…_

Albus Dumbledore turned the handle and walked in the room. Moody stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Dumbledore seemed as surprised to see Moody as he himself felt. Then, Dumbledore's expression turned from surprise to sorrow.

"Alastor…I thought I felt…who did it?"

"Albus?" growled Moody, he was glad to hear his voice still had the intimidating effect. "No, you're an imposter!"

"Sorry, Alastor, but it's me," said Dumbledore softly. Moody noticed Dumbledore looked less lined, even slightly younger. His hand, Moody noticed, was far from the dead-looking thing attached to his arm when he had died…

"I'm…dead, then?"

Dumbledore's eyes filled with tears. Moody frowned.

"That's why…" He looked up into the older man's piercing blue eyes. "It was Voldemort himself. They knew, somehow, the night we were moving Harry even though we leaked fake information to the Ministry. That little git Mundungus did a bunk on me…" his voice trailed away.

"Come, Alastor, and let us take a walk while I explain this…"

Moody followed Dumbledore out the small, wooden front door. He looked remorsefully around the familiar woods he had grown up in. "Albus, but this place was ruined decades ago."

"Where are we, do you say?"

Moody glared at him indifferently. "My childhood home."

Dumbledore looked pleasantly surprised. "Oh, really? Interesting, that is."

Moody decided to drop this ridiculous and vague matter. "So, what were you going to tell me?"

Then Dumbledore drowned him with the truth: his planned death with Snape, how he had told Snape a plan from his portrait, how Snape had decided to use Mundungus…what Harry, Ronald, and Hermione had to do and why, and what he, Dumbledore, had planned…

Moody considered all this when Dumbledore finished. "But isn't it dangerous? Couldn't Potter and his friends fail? Then what happens? The plan is way too feeble for my taste, Albus," Moody said, bemused that his live self had not been told all this.

"I fully believe they will succeed, Alastor, or I wouldn't have landed a job of such importance on their teenage shoulders," retorted Dumbledore, staring into the distant skies.

"All the same—"

"Ah, look, we're back," cut in Dumbledore shortly, and Moody saw that indeed, they had returned to the hut. "You say this is your childhood home, then, say, do you have a fireplace?"

Moody stared at him with both eyes, confused (but won't admit it). "But of course."

Dumbledore smiled affectionately at him. "Then, I think, if you do decide to go _on_, you'll be able to use Floo powder."

"On…"

Moody looked up again (with his magical eye looking at the direction of the old, battered hut). "Where do I tell it to take me?"

"Ah, Alastor, I don't think you would need to say a word," Dumbledore responded in a singsong sort of way that did not raise Moody's spirits.

"Fine, then," he barked. "What about you?"

"I'll return myself to the Headmaster's office soon enough," was the calm reply. "Snape needs me when he gets back. I do hope Harry has arrived safely." He noticed Moody's glare, then said with a grin, "This is it, then, Alastor. We say goodbye," he held out his healed hand. Moody shook it tensely.

"Goodbye, Albus."

Walking away, keeping his magical eye on Dumbledore, who seemed to know he was still being watched, Moody took out his wand. He strode towards the old hearth. There was a flowerpot containing Floo powder waiting for him. Moody pointed his wand at the middle of the hearth. "_Incendio_," the flames danced joyously. Slowly, he threw a handful of Floo powder into it. The fire immediately turned to a bright green, growing tall enough to engulf him. Moody stepped in.

Almost instantaneously the fire began to move him, pulling him into a sickeningly fast speed. He caught glimpses of Muggle houses, of a lake, of the sky and many people on brooms, of Hogwarts…his last glances of the living world.

Then, with a last jerk of his body, Moody was pulled into…_on_.


	2. Who Killed You?

Moody stepped out to what just seemed to be a beam of light. Shielding his eyes with an arm, he stepped out of the fireplace. After a while, the light descended and he saw, to his great astonishment, Sirius Black with a large, snowy white owl perched on his arm.

"M-Mad-Eye?"

"That's right, Black. Now where the hell are we?"

Sirius looked highly amused. "B-But you're so, well, young."

"So are you," Moody replied, studying Sirius. He looked like the one from the old photo of the Order. "Now where am I?"

"_On_," replied Sirius solemnly.

"Will everyone stop saying that!" Moody growled, crossed. Isn't there a less unclear description than this _on_ nonsense?

"Well, nobody told _me_ any better!" snapped Sirius, stroking the owl that Moody now noticed.

"Is that Hedwig?"

Sirius fondled the owl fondly. "Think so. How many beauties of this sort are there, anyway?" then he looked at Moody suspiciously. "But how did she die?"

Moody explained the complicated plan and how it was double-layered with Dumbledore's even more complex one. The crease between Sirius's brows turned clearer as Moody talked.

"Is Harry all right, then?" he asked eagerly once Moody finished.

Moody looked around. "Well, he's not here, is he?"

Sirius looked relieved. "Come, meet everyone else."

Moody chuckled dryly, wishing that he had a few scars on his face so everyone won't glare at him the way Sirius had. He felt his face; the scars were formed. "I've already met plenty of them before, now, have I?"

Sirius waved the thought away and motioned Moody to follow him. They entered a wide, lively street with buildings of all different styles. There were tall, grand-looking buildings that reminded Moody of Gringotts, buildings that looked like an even weirder version of the Burrow, houses covered with vines and flowers from roof to door, and some that looked like they popped out from a Muggle kid show. Sirius led on and stopped shortly in front of a large flat made of red bricks. He knocked what seemed to be the birthday song, and the door opened with a small _creak_.

Sirius, still holding Hedwig, smiled encouragingly at Moody and held the door for him. Moody gave him a suspicious glare with his normal eye and stepped in, his blue eye spinning around on top speed, checking the place out. The walls were draped with red and gold hangings. The floor was wooden and creaked slightly when trotted on. The furniture was mismatched, but all looked comfortable. Moody looked through the walls and saw a kitchen, a bathroom, a large bedroom with what surely was a king-sized bed in it. In the kitchen stood a man and a woman; Moody moved towards it as Sirius closed the door behind them. Moody saw, with a start, a goat strolling lazily into the bedroom.

"That's Goatee," Sirius explained cheerily. "Aberforth accidentally killed him ages ago while trying to stop him peeing on the sofa."

Moody thought not to mention that Goatee was now peeing on the bed.

He pushed open the kitchen door and recognized, to his astonishment, Lily and James Potter. James, at the sight of him, spilled coffee all over his front. Cursing in an undertone and cleaning up after himself with his wand, he stared up at Moody through his lopsided glasses. Lily gasped, covering her mouth with both hands and dropping an ugly vase she was holding.

"Mad-Eye!" husband and wife chorused.

"Hello," he snarled back.

"Who killed you?" asked James.

Moody scowled at this rather original greeting. "The same person that killed you."

Lily gasped again, quieter this time.

"Harry, what about Harry?" she breathed.

"Reckon he's fine. Snuffed it before I knew for sure, though."

Sirius laughed slightly, and Lily narrowed her eyes at him, furious.

"Well, he's not here, is he? He'll be fine…he's survived…what, six times in Voldemort's presence now. And Voldemort had tried his hardest to kill him every time, but he always got through it all right."

Lily still looked disconcerted. James rubbed her shoulder, and Sirius introduced them both to Hedwig happily ("like a proud father," joked James). Moody filled them all in on what has happened since Sirius died. Then Lily asked Moody if he wanted to stay for dinner. The request made him wonder about something.

"Where do I live?"

"Somewhere over the Rainbow," Sirius replied, chewing on a piece of raw celery. When he saw Moody look at him with transparent indifference, he added, "What? It's literally over Rainbow Street, there're more empty places!"

"And who will build this house?"

"It'll be there as long as you're ready for it to be," it was Lily who replied, sipping James's coffee.

"Aren't you going to fix that?" Sirius was pointing at the shattered pieces of the odd vase lying beside Lily's feet. She shook her head and scooped the pieces into a plastic bag with her wand.

"Petunia gave it to me ages ago for Christmas. Somehow it was here when James and I came."

"She's been wanting to find a reason to break it for ages," James whispered to Moody and Sirius.

"What's the time?" Moody asked; his magical eye saw no clocks anywhere in the house.

"Anytime you want it to be," said James matter-of-factly, looking surprised to be asked this question.

Lily nudged him in the ribs. "James, he just got here." She looked around at Moody and grinned warmly. "You'll get used to how things work here after a little while. The logic's really not that hard." She made roast beef appear on the empty plate she was holding. Moody stared, knowing that it's impossible to make food appear out of thin air.

Somehow Moody highly doubted her words.


	3. That's the Beauty of It

Hey, I've decided to end this little story at this chapter.

Sorry this took so long.

* * *

Moody jumped off the cliff after a brief moment of hesitation.

* * *

"That was totally pointless, Sirius."

"It was fun, though."

"I don't seem to detect spasms of joy rushing through me."

"Honestly, have you ever?"

"Don't mess with me, boy."

"C'mon, just admit it. That was pretty wicked."

"I don't exactly see how killing yourself counts as wicked."

"Ah, but that's the beauty of it. You _can't_."

Mad-Eye would roll his eye, but the magical eye was stuck again. After that git Crouch Junior used it, it had always been that way. That was one thing that hadn't change. You may wonder why he doesn't just roll his normal eye, but, frankly, one continuously spinning eye was quite enough for a person. He gave Sirius a hard glare that he knew was no use to someone as cheeky and self-satisfied as Sirius Black (though Mad-Eye was proud to say that his glares had the general effect of temporary paralyzing and in some cases even lack of control of bladder to most others).

"Just to save me the benefit of doubt, is this a common hobby of yours?"

"Well, no, sometimes I crash into trees, or dive into the sea instead of a gorge. You should come some day," Sirius grinned a grin that many would find unbearably charming. Well, it appears that Moody was as immune to Sirius's charm as the latter is to Mad-Eye's death-looks.

"I think I'll pass," he grumbled.

"Well, come along. Lily should be having tea right now."

"Are we expected?"

Sirius looked at him blankly. "Did the fall actually do damage to your head, Mad-Eye? It's me, Sirius Black. I live without the bother of waiting for invitations."

"Well, you're not living right now. Sorry to put it in your pretty head, but you're dead."

"That rhymes." Sirius laughed at Mad-Eye's expression and whistled. A giant hippogriff, even bigger than Buckbeak, landed elegantly (for a hippogriff) a few feet away from them. "Need a hand?"

"I have two legs now," Moody replied grumpily. This was always still a pleasing surprise every time Moody looked down. He swung himself onto the hippogriff ("Meet Picklefeathers," Sirius had introduced. "Stupid man who was riding him crashed them into a wall. Gave him to me for free, was quite willing to part with him. Shame, that is. Beautiful animal.")

Mad-Eye found himself, once again, observing the odd scenery below him as they flew over the ostensibly never-ending town. Houses and castles of all sizes and shapes (there was a carrot-shaped one that had real leaves on top, and a butterbeer shaped one that occasionally foamed from the chimney), immense fields and parks, beaches were around the south border, with the addition mountains and volcanoes scattered all over the place. He would never in a thousand years had believed in the existence of such a place. Sometimes he still didn't, despite standing right in the middle of it.

Sirius hooted and howled as they soared through the air, allowing both his arms to stretch wide open. Moody could not believe that, after spending all his life snarling "constant vigilance" to every half-decent living soul he met, he was now spending his days with such a maniac of a man. Sirius let his hand down and held on to Picklefeathers as they took a particularly sharp turn and laughed. Once again, Mad-Eye failed to see the humor in this.

Picklefeathers landed smoothly in front of the Potter's long, flat cottage. Sirius leashed the magnificent beast onto the mailbox that only exists for decoration. He pushed the front door open (no one locks their doors here, it seemed) and entered with ease. Mad-Eye hopped off the hippogriff and followed Sirius's steps up the porch and through the doorway.

Lily and James were indeed having tea and double chocolate truffles in the living room. Sirius had planted himself in an over-stuffed armchair next to James, and was starting to help himself to a truffle. Moody sat down cautiously across from the sofa Lily and James were sitting on, and eyed the food (despite himself) with suspicion. He was greeted by his hosts and James conjured a mug with his wand, filled it with fresh tea, and told Mad-Eye to help himself.

Moody accepted the mug of steaming tea, but, being himself, didn't sip it. Instead, he spun his magic eye around (the blasted thing was finally working properly again) to check for dangers. Goatee was grazing at the backyard, Hedwig was asleep in her cage in the kitchen, Lily hadn't changed her mind about leaving the broken vase the way it is yet, and all three of his companions were staring at him with sheer amusement written on their faces.

"Haven't any of you ever heard of manners?" He growled unpleasantly. "It's impolite to stare."

"It's just, Mad-Eye," Lily smiled. "You do know I didn't poison the tea, right?"

"Besides," James added. "If you really did snuff it—well, you can't."

"The same point I've been trying to prove to you all day," Sirius pointed out, his smirk smug and smudged with chocolate.

"As well as yesterday, you cheeky little git," Moody retorted with a snarl. "Just because I've gained some bones back doesn't mean I won't break them."

"Yeah, but they heal right away," argued Sirius.

"That's not the point."

"Enlighten me."

"I think what's happening here is," Lily began, loud enough to cover Mad-Eyes reply. "Mad-Eye just hadn't quite kicked the habit yet. You really don't have to force it," she looked at Moody. "It comes, slow for some. The place really is so safe that you needn't worry."

"Needn't worry?" Sirius snorted. "He's Mad-Eye, he'll always worry."

"So should you, at one point," Moody countered, as the truffle Sirius was holding turned into a squealing, kicking, and muddy duckling with a swish of Moody's wand.

"Gah!" Sirius sat up straight and dropped the bird, as it scattered away to the direction of the bedroom.

"You should have tasted it. Chocolate duck, imagine that," Moody cackled.

"That's it, old chap, you—"

"Oh, do stop it, you hairy dog," James said as he and Lily laughed their heads off on the couch. "At least you succeeded in making old Moody have a laugh."

Sirius paused and lay back, satisfaction filling his face. "Hey, does that mean I win the bet, then?"

To hide his sudden flush of embarrassment, Moody grimaced at them all and sipped his tea. "That's enough. Moving on."

* * *

So, I know it's been a long time, but PLEEAAASSEE RREEVVIIEEWW (:


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